


Midnight Songs

by bookskitten



Category: Enola Holmes (2020)
Genre: Alright people grab your fans and pearls to clutch, Enola gets injured on a case and Tewksbury patches her up, F/M, Fluff, Idiots in Love, as in being in the same room, because we have...............bare calves in this, like a lot, sexual tension but make it victorian, two unchaperoned unmarried people being in way too close proximity with each other, we got bare calves bare shoulders
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-15
Updated: 2020-11-15
Packaged: 2021-03-10 04:33:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,484
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27568324
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bookskitten/pseuds/bookskitten
Summary: They have been friends for almost four years at this point, so really, Enola showing up in his house, in the middle of the night, bloodied and hurt, should not come as a surprise.
Relationships: Enola Holmes/Viscount "Tewky" Tewksbury
Comments: 35
Kudos: 384





	Midnight Songs

**Author's Note:**

> Yes, hi, I love this movie and these two wrecked me emotionally so here we go. Few notes before starting this trainwreck:
> 
> *Used some victorian slang, if it is wrong please blame Google: pigeon-livered = cowardly, ratbag = general insult, despicable person, glock = dimwitted.  
> *We don't have any official given name for Tewksbury but I've seen William being used in other fics so I went with that as well.  
> *Literally everything happening in this fic would turn into a monster scandal during the Victorian Era, but that's the point, these two don't particularly care.  
> (*Why is his name so hard to spell holy shit)  
> *English isn't my first language, so apologies for any mistakes in here.

For one so prone to in-depth thinking, Enola Holmes was surely not doing much of that right now. She tried to control her breath, or what was left of it at this point, but it felt pointless. There was enough time for breathing once she knew she was safe for sure. She ignored the pain that shot through her leg, with the determination of someone who will not die tonight. She almost laughed in delight when she turned the corner and her target came into view. Enola barely slowed down to open the porch. It was not locked, as existing porches of houses in Mayfair weren’t, and she knew for a fact that it only existed to serve as climbing space for the flowers if anything. She made it to the door in three quick steps and processed to bang the knocker against the mahogany wooden frame loud enough for the whole house to hear.

_One, two, breath in. You are to no use solving a case if you asphyxiate yourself in the process, Enola._

It has been at least fifteen seconds already and no one opened the door yet. Naturally, she should have thought of that before knocking, of course. But her mind has been maybe too caught up in the naturally triggered process of surviving after being shot at multiple times to care to analyse the probability of anyone being up at this — widely regarded as ungodly — hour. She recalled a church’s bells striking two in the morning before her reckoning mission went south and the chase began.

Deciding she was not out of luck yet, Enola grabbed the handle and pushed. And to her joy, the door opened. Keeping the door unlocked was a terrible habit but she won’t criticize just this time. She rushed into the hall of the house and closed the door behind her, locking it for good measure. 

“Goodness gracious!”

Enola would have rolled her eyes had she not been in significant physical pain. She moved past the Butler and into the Drawing Room and processed to unceremoniously drop on the couch with a grunt. Now that she was out of the open streets and no longer chased or being shot at, it just drowned upon her how much her injury actually hurt. That pigeon-livered ratbag will come to regret this when she is done with this case.

“Miss Holmes? Is that you?”

She gritted her teeth to abstain from giving a painful grunt as a response. Well, Enola supposed with the mix of blood and sweat all over her, her hair turned into a complete rat nest, and the shabby dress she wore for a disguise thorned and covered in dirt, she indeed didn’t look much like herself. Not the Enola Holmes that he got the chance to see anyway, on the two occasions she showed up in the past fortnight.

“Get Tewksbury, please.” she managed to strangle out.

“Miss Holmes, do you know what time it is? You cannot just rush into someone’s house, let alone a Lord’s, in the state you are in. And then just make demands as if you have any authority in…”

Enola tuned him out. Mister Ainsworth has been the Butler of the Basilwether Townhouse for a little over two weeks now and has clearly yet not familiarized himself with the so-called preposterous shenanigans she, and by extension, the master of the house, often found themselves in. Truth to be told, she ended up actually missing the previous butler Mister Brent, who would not even bat an eyelid at the predicament they found themselves in right now. After all, she has been friends with Tewky for 3 years, ten months, eleven days, and three hours, and the old butler has seen quite a few unexpected shenanigans throughout this time. But Mister Brent retired early to take care of a farm somewhere in Staffordshire and here was Enola, stuck being lectured on manners.

“Enola!”

Oh, has she ever been more grateful to see him. Viscount Tewksbury, Marquess of Basilwether took exactly one look at her, before ushering Ainsworth out.

“Get me the medical kit.” he said without even glancing at the butler and rushing to Enola’s side.

“My Lord, this…”

“The medical kit. _Now_ , please!”

Enola actually smiled, even though the pain was not letting on. Tewky rushed around the room, turning the oil lamps on. “So, I see the reckoning mission did not go… very well.”

Well, in the light of the lamps, she probably looked worse for wear than she did in the moonlit room just a second ago. “Close your mouth, Viscount Irritation, otherwise you might catch flies. And to ease your worry, I will have you know that most of the blood on me, is not actually mine.”

He inhaled sharply, rushing back to her. “I will need a more concrete definition of what you characterize as _most of the blood_.”

The return of Mister Ainsworth spared her the trouble of finding a witty retort given she was starting to get dizzy.

“Thank you.” Tewky said grabbing the box from the butler before dragging one of the small tables closer to the couch and dropping it on top. “That would be all, you might return to sleep. And please close the door.”

Despite her dizziness, Enola could pinpoint the exact moment when Ainsworth choked on his own spit. “My Lord, you cannot suggest I leave you unchaperoned and especially at this hour.”

“ _Goodnight_ , Mister Ainsworth.”

Enola managed a smile. Oh, that was the pompous lordy voice and two times in the span of approximately five minutes. He hated using that tone. At least she wasn’t the only one annoyed by Ainsworth.

Speaking of which, he proceeded to ungracefully choke on his words some more before coming to the realisation that this was a lost fight. Enola waited to make sure the steps faded away before groaning in pain.

“Oh bloody hell, I cannot wait to get those glocks locked up.”

“We need to take care of you first.” Tewksbury said, clearly more concerned with her than the glocks right now. “Tell me, where are you hurt?”

“It’s mostly nothing, just bruises and minor cuts. But I think one of the bullets got my leg.”

He was on it immediately, moving one of the ottomans close enough for her to be able to put her injured leg up. Taking the pressure of it felt relieving, even if not by much.

“Alright,” Tewky said, more to himself, kneeling in front of her and undoing her boots’ laces. “You run all the way here so I would hope it isn’t as bad as I imagine.”

Well, she has, but it has been more her memory of the London’s streets, hidden spots and secret paths that helped her escape, rather than her athletic skills. Not this time at least. But he didn’t need to know this right now, he looked pale enough as it was.

“It’s not your ankle, so it must be on your calf.” he reached for the bottom of her skirts almost instinctively before freezing. His eyes found her just for a moment before he let go of the material as if it burned him.

“Oh bloody hell, Tewky, we exchanged clothes before, just pull the damn thing up.”

Her words seemed to have the effect of icy water. “Alright, I’m sorry. I was just minding my manners.”

“I am in your house in the middle of the night, bloodied and shot and you are doctoring me. I would wager we already shattered any rule of decorum with a sledgehammer.”

He laughed and it almost made Enola forget the pain she was in. Now that was one hell of a medical skill.

His fingers found the bottom of her ratty skirts again and lifted them up. For a moment Enola had to wonder if the way his breath caught was because the injury was better or worse than expected. Even though in the back of her mind, she had a feeling it was unrelated to that.

“There is no bullet.” there was a sigh of relief. “But it managed to graze up quite badly. I will get that cleaned, disinfected and bandaged. And uh… I will need to cut up the stocking, it covers a bit of the wound and it is too dirty to stay on if we don’t want the injury to get infected.”

Enola assumed so much. Glancing down, she was met with his intense eyes locked with hers again. “Well, what are you waiting for?”

“Your permission, of course.”

Oh, this silly properly-mannered nincompoop. It was annoying, especially in the given situation, but she appreciated the consideration. Now that she would ever admit it out loud. “Rag it up.”

Tewky smiled at her attitude before reaching for the scissors in the medical kit and beginning to carefully cut through the material. Yes, coming here was a great idea. She wasn’t in the state to patch herself up properly alone. She closed her eyes as Tewksbury worked, if only to stop the headache.

“Do you feel the need for pain medicine?” he said, making her snap her eyes open.

Enola didn’t need to read the label to know what it contained. She almost lunged for it. “I could chug that thing, give it to me!”

“Ah, ah.” Tewksbury's disapproval was clear in his voice as he moved the bottle out of her reach. “You aren’t drinking this whole thing.”

Enola simply rolled her eyes as she allowed him to take a vial out of the kit and open it. Unlabeled. It was one of his remedies, she was sure. He took on the hobby of mixing herbs for medical purposes. Or for poison, when she asked. A rather useful skill to have, she could admit that much. He had a great precision as he poured a few drops of the Laudanum in the vial before closing it and twirling it to mix.

“Here.” he extended it to her with a smile.

Enola knew he wasn’t fond of Laudanum as a remedy for everything, especially in big quantities. She could understand that, after all, one of her first cases was someone who died because they overdosed. Her leg, still hurting from the bullet wound, might disagree, but Enola was stubborn enough to fight it. Instead, she gulped down the contents of the vial he gave her. It tasted good. Not sweet, but not bitter as medicine tended to. 

“I’ll clean it up first.” Tewky’s words took her out of her self-induced deep thought as he worked expertly with the medical kit, taking a clean cotton cloth and pouring some water on. 

She had to wonder if the medical skills came from having to patch her up sometimes or it simply derived from his passion for botany. Curious she didn’t think of that yet. It might be a mix of both.

Enola gasped as Tewksbury hand gently grabbed her ankle, keeping her leg in place as he was cleaning the wound. His hands were warm. It might have just come to her mind, that they never touched like this. No. They touched so many times, there was no point in even counting. Strolling through Covent Garden. Walking around London in various disguises on a case. Lying in the fields near Basilwether manor on a late summer day, him braiding flowers in her hair. Sitting in his childhood treehouse and reading, back to back or with their legs brushing against each other. Hiding in some coffer together to infiltrate a place or another.

(Enola tried not to think about that one time when she wept over his body, thinking he was dead.)

And the hand-kissing has been such a normal occurrence between them. More than it was acceptable for a non-courting couple that’s for sure. Touching each other had been a normality. But not like this.

The hand kisses have always spread warmth in her chest, her skin tingling pleasantly where his lips have been. That was skin to skin contact. This shouldn’t be that much different. But it was. Tewksbury’s hands were soft and gentle, his touch warm against the bare skin of her calf. She couldn’t even bring herself to mind the stinging she was feeling as the wound was being disinfected. Not when Tewksbury’s thumb was rubbing circles comfortingly against her skin. It felt like nothing before. Not even the tingles from the hand kisses. No, this felt as if her skin was set aflame. Did it become harder to breathe?

Enola tried to focus on his face rather than his touch. He had this slight frown that he always got when he was concentrating. His lips were parted just enough to leave uneven breathes out. She tilted her hand. Now, she has been perfectly aware that the Marquees of Basilwether, Viscount Tewksbury, her friend and companion in adventures and mystery-solving, was easy on the eyes. More than so, if she had to be honest with herself. She hasn’t paid a specific sort of attention to this before, besides the acknowledgement of it. But now, in the light of the lamps, and maybe too dizzy from the happenings of the day, she almost saw him with new eyes. The chiselled bone structure of his jaw, worth of a marble statue, the pink of his lips, those kind brown eyes framed but thick lashes. Yes, indeed more than just easy on the eyes. Stunning, truly. 

“And we are done here.”

Enola almost jumped out of her skin. Good grief, the medication must truly mess with her mind. She shook her head as if that would manage to shrug off the previous thoughts. Looking at Tewksbury, Enola wondered what was with the tension in his shoulders. And was his breathing ragged? Curious.

“Are you tired?” he inquired as he closed off the medical kit.

“Not quite.” 

That wasn’t a lie. The medication seemingly not only gave her the strangest of thoughts but gave her a rush of energy too.

“Then I shall insist I draw a bath for you to get cleaned up. Especially given that you insisted most of the blood wasn’t yours.”

“That’s a surprisingly good idea.” she could admit as much. Enola stood up carefully, balancing her weight on her good foot.

“Shall I…?”

“No, I’m managing.” he already took care of her injury and there was so much pampering Enola could take before she felt like she lost her touch.

“Then how about using this maybe?” 

Tewksbury’s walking stick was helpful enough but it was not a medical tool, it was just a pompous decoration and it showed by the time which she took to reach the bottom of the stairs. Far too slow and far too uncomfortable. Just because it got bandaged, it didn’t mean the injury vanished. Enola glanced up at the stairs. Curses!

“My offer of assisting still stands.” Tewksbury offered from behind her, where he walked two steps behind, enough to give her space but close enough to catch her in time if she might fall.

Oh, to hell with it all, she can be pampered once per year.

“I will accept it with reluctance.” she mumbled out, throwing his walking stick aside.

“I would expect nothing less.” He lifted her up in his arms gently, mindful of her injury. She simply crossed her arms as they began ascending the stairs.

“This is undignifying.” 

Enola knew she sounded like a petulant child, but she couldn’t bring herself to care. And despite her protests, she still leaned her head against his chest. Peonies, lilac and countless other May flowers. The familiar smell of a blooming exquisite garden was comforting. This was not the first time when Tewky was carrying her in his arms. She requested his help to sneak into a doctor’s cabinet under the pretence of fainting. He played the part of the dutiful, hysterical husband perfectly. She always said that if his estate crumbles, and there are no botany jobs available, he could always become an actor.

“Luckily for you, Enola Holmes, I am the only witness of this indignity and you have my solemn oath of silence.”

She hit his chest. The nincompoop was finding this whole situation amusing. She really did her best to not melt at the sound of his laughter.

“In all seriousness, I’ll draw you the bath and let you clean up while I prepare my room for you. None of the guest bedrooms is arranged and that’s my oversight. At this point maybe we should have one always prepared for when you might drop by.”

Honestly, she could even take the floor at this point. She was no stranger to inconvenient sleeping places, but she doubted Tewksbury would allow her that given the injury. There was no more conversation until they reached the bath chamber and he settled her on the windowsill, bringing one of the footstools over for her injured leg. She watched fondly as he fussed around the room, preparing the water for the bath and everything else.

“These should help your aches.” he mentioned as he dropped some dried flowers into the hot water. The steam began to rise in the room and so did the smell of flowers. 

“You are not putting those rags back on, I’ll get you one of my mother’s nightgowns and we will find you something tomorrow as well.”

“Don’t wake her up for this.” she argued. Lady Caroline has been nothing but sweet and accepting towards Enola and all her so-called eccentric attitudes. She would even dare call the Marchioness a friend. So no, Enola really did not wish to wake her up for such a little thing, especially when she knew the poor woman had sleeping issues. Then again, Enola had to wonder how come she didn’t come to check on all the noise her arrival brought.

“Mother and Uncle Whimbrel left for the estate this morning. There had been a small flooding on one of the farms and they offered to take care of it so I can stay for the Parliament session on Monday. All’s fine, you know Mother would offer it herself if she was here.”

She did not linger on that. Because all was not, in fact, fine. Enola had the sudden realization, that with her injury she was not entirely capable of getting out of her clothes by herself.

“Bath’s ready. And… yes?”

Well, the look on her face upon her realization was clear enough to prompt him that something was not right. Well, better get it over with.

“I need your help. To undress.”

Tewksbury simply blinked, attempting to process what she just requested of him. Enola wondered if he might have slipped into some kind of shock until he seemed to come back to himself. 

“Right, of course.”

They had changed clothes before. But they had never undressed each other during that process. This was new. He began by undoing the buttons on the back of her dress. It was a borrowed disguise, and being a working gown it was a little behind the current fashion, but the material was heavier and the skirts fuller.

“Let’s try to pull this over your head. It would be the easiest way.”

His voice sounded as if he had trouble breathing again. Enola decided to blame it on the steam in the room, because she really, really did not feel like this was the right moment to think about the other possibilities. Not when his hands were just above her waist undoing the cord of the small cotton bustle she had on.  
“If… if you could turn just a little, please.”

She did so without a complaint, allowing him better access to the back of her corset. He was moving slowly, taking his time to loosen the strings. Enola raised her arms to allow him better access. He reached under her arms and opened the clasps in front in one quick motion. His hands brushed against her side and it might have just drowned upon her how little anything there was between them. Space, cloth, air. 

He shifted behind her. There was a moment of pause and then, his fingers found her mess of a hair. He pulled the pins with enough skill to make her barely feel any discomfort. The noise of them being thrown aside against the tiles was almost deafening in the silent room. Her hair fell over her shoulders, still tangled. Tewksbury's hands were lingering by her temples, seemingly unsure what to do next. But the uncertainty did not last. The next thing she knew, his hands were in her hair, massaging her scalp gently.

Enola let out a hoarse sigh, closing her eyes and leaning into his touch. It felt like everything she needed right now. She fell back just slightly and she could feel his muscles tense up as their bodies touched. There was a sharp intake of air before he began combing his fingers through her curls, managing to untangle them as much as possible without a brush. Maybe her senses were overloaded because of the injury, but this had no business feeling as good as it did. She let out another sigh.

His fingers lingered one moment longer in her hair, before he moved, kneeling in front of her. Enola opened her eyes, missing the sensation of his fingers in her hair. He was avoiding eye contact, she noted almost sleepily. He was staring intently at her uninjured leg for longer than necessary. Then slowly, he reached under her chemise, just above her knee and pulled down the stocking. He threw it aside in the pile of discarded clothes almost carelessly. And then their eyes locked. The wave of warmth that spread through her body could surely not be only from the steam. Tewksbury didn’t seem to fare much better in terms of handling warmth if the way he licked his now dry lips was of any indication.

The silence stretched for so long. At this point the world could have caught fire outside of this room, Enola wouldn’t have noticed or cared. She was — dare she say? — entranced by those warm brown eyes, looking at her with something akin to adulation.

It was he who broke the trance by looking away. He got up clearing his throat and swiping nonexistent dust off his sleeping clothes. 

“I… I shall go and take care of the rest of the preparations.”

Enola needed a moment to come back to her senses. “Yes, of course. I’ll manage from here. And uh, getting in the bathtub, it is low, so I can do that”. Her words were fumbled. Her words were never fumbled.

“Naturally, uh… keep your bandaged leg out of the water for now, I put another stool there for you.”

“Right. Thank you.”  
He nodded and then he was out of the room, gone with the speed of lightning. Enola tried not to think, not something she ever wished to do or was even capable of doing. She went through the motions, trying to keep her mind empty. It was just much later when she was soaking in the hot water that she tried to process what happened. What she felt. And after a solid minute of self-analysis Enola decided this was not something she was capable of dealing with right now. This was a problem for her future self. So she simply took a deep breath and allowed herself to sink under the water for a moment. She came back up and rubbed her face clean of grime and blood. She will wind up smelling like flowers once she is out. Just as she began rinsing her hair there was a knock on the door.

“It is me. I uh… I have my eyes closed.”

Enola actually snorted at the prospect. Right. “Come in.”

Tewksbury was indeed keeping his eyes closed and she could only hope he knew the layout well enough to not walk into something and proceed to knock himself out.

“Here is the nightgown. And I thought you might be hungry all things considered, so I brought you some fruit.”

Enola’s stomach grunted in response. “Thank you.”

“You are most welcome.” despite having his eyes tightly closed, he still refused to look anywhere in her general direction. “If you need anything, I’ll be just outside the door.”

Luckily for both of them, Enola managed to get herself into nightgown just fine and proceeded to finish the bowl of fruit in what must have been a record time. Once she stepped outside she took his arm for support as they walked towards his room. She refused to be carried again. And judging by the way her marquees looked, he might not have it in him to carry her again. And once she was settled in his bed, injured leg propped on a very fluffy pillow, Enola realised just how fatigued she was from everything.

“So where will you sleep?” she asked with a very ungraceful yawn. “It would be terrible of me to have you sleep on your own floor for the night.”

He finally looked at her, an amused smile clear on his lips. “Your consideration knows no limits, Enola Holmes.”

Ah, banter. This she could deal with. Much better than adoratory looks. “So I’ve been told.”

“To answer your question, I’ll just take my papers and go to my study. I do not really plan to go to bed.” he simply shrugged indicating the working desk in the corner of the room which was overflowing with documents. “I’ll turn off the lights so you can get the proper rest you need.”

“No.” Enola frowned at him. “Stay here. You can keep the lights on for all I care, I can sleep with them on.”

“If that’s what you wish.”

“Yes.” she pulled the blankets closer to her and gave him one a confident smile.

“Then I’ll stay.” he seemed more relaxed now. “Sleep well.”

He turned around, moving towards his desk, but Enola was frowning. Something didn’t feel quite right just yet.

“William.”

He froze in place for a moment, before turning back, surprise clear in his eyes. They could count on the fingers from one hand the number of times when she used his given name.

“Yes?” His voice was barely above a whisper but he moved closer, taking her outstretched hand in his.

Her eyelids were so heavy right now, but she has to keep them open just for a moment longer. “Thank you. For everything.”

There it was. That beautiful intoxicating smile that could rival the sun in warmth. He simply lifted her hand and pressed a kiss against her knuckles. His lips lingered, his breath warm against her skin.

“Anything for you Enola.”

She smiled contently, allowing sleep to carry her away, the last thing on her mind being those kind brown eyes.


End file.
